The pursuit of all that glistens

It flickers up ahead, something that moves through the mist, catching and reflecting.

Light.

I chase it, ever onward. Sometimes stumbling, sometime crying, often numb and weary.

Starbright.

I think I will, I think I might. Catch the beam that burns so bright. Or maybe

Not.

Breathless and bruised and now ever so dangerous, tooth-and-claw strong.

Fight.

To be on top. To win. To have that mirror relect all that glistens, all that is beautiful, all that is—

Me.